


The Frozen Apple of Idunn

by chrysanthemumsies



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Angst, F/M, Jotun!Loki, Romance, Series, lokane - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrysanthemumsies/pseuds/chrysanthemumsies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This apple of immortality will only thaw as your heart does in itself, and only then will you need it the most. I take away your form, I change you into the Jotun you always were, and sentence you to rule the only land your greed had forgotten: Jotunheim. If you never find someone to love in your heart, and them to you, you will be forced to live immortality within the bounds of the frozen realm, never to return.”</p><p>And with that, the great Odin ripped the very Asgardian facade from the prince of lies, and banished him to the homeland of a forever winter: The ice kingdom of Jotunheim.</p><p>.</p><p>Jane Foster had figured it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i : The Ice Palace

**Author's Note:**

> this is post-TDW, based around the fairytale of 'Beauty and the Beast'. it's a long haul, but hopefully it'll be worth it in the end. i hope you enjoy!

Jane Foster had figured it out.

She ran a hand through her hair, pacing around the lab with quiet, assured steps, despite the qualms in her mind. She had done it, had built the device with just enough energy to jump her to another realm, past the magnetic barriers, and into Asgard. She had done it.

But had she? There was no one to double check the wiring of the actual machine, no one to mull over the very same equations she had. Darcy had returned to Culver, her credits full and her parting words something along the lines of: _“Can I get extra credits for this? No? Alrighty, then. This was nice, we should get together for Starbucks soon.”_

Eric was still in the ‘company’ of SHIELD; she doubted that he was being treated as a guest in the base he was kept in near Stockholm. Ever since _Loki_  - the name still sent shivers up her spine - faked his own death and was banished to Jotunheim, Nick Fury had milked Eric for every piece of information he had. Which wasn’t much, but the man was _convinced_ that there was something locked in his memories, something useful to gain the knowledge of how to defeat Loki. There was no doubt among SHIELD that the tempered 'god' would return to Earth at some point.

Jane clenched her fists, nails teasing the meaty flesh of her palm. That fact still didn’t make it okay that Eric, the man she loved most in this world, was being bombarded with intense interrogations that just _had_ to be irritating his PTSD.

‘Irritating’ must be a bit of an understatement, but she digressed.

Jane didn’t know what to believe, herself. Though she felt nothing above caution and… _distaste_ for Loki, he had saved her life. Twice. The fact that he faked his death to overthrow Odin was nothing to dispel that fact, as the context didn’t very much matter to her if she were dead. There had to be _some_ brownie points for that.

She slowed her legs to a halt and dropped her fists against the table below her, her knuckles rapping against the wood. She was getting too caught up into her thoughts, when she could be acting on her theory right now. What did she have to lose? Thor? She smiled bitterly. The last she heard of him, he was relaying the information of Loki’s whereabouts in SHIELD headquarters, without a spare thought in her direction.

She dropped the corners of her lips after a moment of thought, a sigh entangling the air. She shouldn’t blame him, not when she knew of his constant work in Asgard. She knew he had to jump from world to world, qualming the altercations in each kingdom. He was a peacekeeper, something that appealed to the humanity inside of her, and that could never change, no matter how difficult it became to remain fond of him.

She _had_ always had a bit of a temper, though. But her fondness of him never dropped, even when she screamed out curses to him in the desert night. Her lips twitched genuinely at the memory. Her vocabulary was more expansive than she had thought.

She abruptly straightened up, a sense of courage pulsating through her veins. There was no point to dwell on the past, her feelings over the eight months that transpired between now and the battle on Svartalfheim. She would see him soon enough, after all.

Striding across the room in as big of steps as she could manage, she snatched the duffel bag from the couch and began loading it up with necessities. She nestled the device over a layer of clothing, keeping it as safe as she could, and piled some more things over it. With a spare moment of thought, she stuffed a couple of water bottles and several granola bars into the side pocket; she had to consider a number of variables. Like her van breaking down on the way to the sight she would be jumping from.

She zipped everything up and slapped her hands onto the plushed nylon in finality. There was no time for doubts, only preparations.

She peaked at the clock on her nightstand, and assessed her own body’s internal health. Alright, there was time for a short nap.

Crawling into a nestle on the couch, she closed her eyes, ignoring the flashes of images that drawled against her lids. This _was_ the right decision, as well as the only one she could be true to herself to take. Telling SHIELD would only result in a situation out of her control, something that she wouldn’t allow. This was _her_ machine, as it is, so it should remain _her_ doing.

Humming deep in her throat, the problematic thoughts soon ceased to continue, and she allowed herself to succumb to the deeper parts of her subconscious, into what would surely be longer than a nap.

It didn’t matter. She had all the time she needed.

 

* * *

 

When Jane awoke, it was already into a deep nightfall. She blinked stickily, unclumping her tangled lashes from each other and sitting up on the cushion.

She had fallen asleep only a little past noon, as the thicket of of stormclouds that were rolling in had darkened the sky into false evening, at the time. The impending thunder that sounded nearby seemed to agree with her.

The thunderstorm would mask her departure from SHIELD, though not entirely. It didn't matter; they couldn't stop her now, anyway.

Stretching her legs, she rolled her body off of the couch and into an immediate standing position, swaying as black ink clotted her vision. She had made sure not to eat, as interdimensional travel gave her an upset stomach; she knew from experience. That didn’t stop her stomach from growling angrily, though.

After brushing her teeth and untangling her hair with her fingers, she spared no time. Swinging the strap of the duffel bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her keys and opened the door, locking it behind her. She had stripped the actual lab of useful materials for the devices, and had gathered all of the information and data in a USB around her neck. She kept a spare one at the bottom of her duffel; again, preparing for all possible happenings was her forte.

The humid fragrance of raindrops wetting the sand drifted under her nose, and she eyed the stormclouds uncertainly. If she could already _smell_ the rain, then the drive to the original site of Thor’s arrival would be a rocky one. With only a short moment of hesitation, she padded down the concrete steps and swung herself into the van, dropping her bag into the passenger seat. She regarded the fact that, yes, bringing her van probably wasn’t the best idea; it wasn’t the model of stealth, even when it wouldn’t be sitting plainly on the flat desert sand.

She realized that it hardly mattered at this point, now. The readings, while masked slightly with the storm, will become apparent to SHIELD eventually. They would arrive to the sight in Puente Antiguo, expecting clues of an Asgardian (or _other_ ) resident, only to realize that Jane had found her wait _out_ , rather than someone their way _in_. They would raid her lab, yet find nothing of her work other than a few unrelated theories and unused scraps of metal. There was no one that they could question, as she had been without company for the past several months.

They would reach a dead end. The thought sent a fierce smile to Jane’s lips, from the hatred she felt for SHIELD, and she realized something that should have been obvious: _she wasn’t as submissive as she had thought_. She _did_ have a backbone, and she was intending on wringing it of every ounce of courage she had left.

Jabbing the key into the ignition, she felt the van groan to life, and she swung out into an uneven reverse. Without looking back, she thrust the stick into drive, and raced off into the storm.

 

* * *

 

Jane was calibrating the device, connecting it to the interdimensional passageway the Bifrost provided, when she heard the helicopters.

She froze, her fingers pressed firmly against the cool metal of the device. No, impossible, it just _couldn’t_ be SHIELD. Turning her head, her hands still tensed against the machine, she trailed her eyes up from the languid sand until she caught sight of the only star visible past the mountains of stormclouds.

Only, it wasn’t a star.

“ _Damn_ it,” she cursed with fervor, whipping her head back around to bury the device deeper in the center of the design in the sand, its twisting patterns forever inked upon the desert from Thor’s first arrival. The orange, pulsating light told her it was searching, a task that could take up to an hour.

She had a few minutes.

She was _not_ going to let SHIELD take this from her, take what she had built from scraps of metal and her own theories. She flexed her fists against the sand, feeling the thrumming power of the energy sensor pass through the grains. All it had to do was find the Bifrost, connect to the Einstein-Rosen Bridge that existed between Earth and Asgard, and then harness the power it provided to jump her through it. That’s all it needed to do.

She muttered earnest words of encouragement, but the device just couldn’t match the wavelength of the bridge it was made to find. The helicopters were nearer, close enough to tease the ends of her hair and send a flash of panic into her stomach. As a frantic last resort, she spun the dial on the machine to search for a magnetic reading, rather than the one unique to the Bifrost.

If there was another passageway alongside of it, she would know.

The machine let out a beep, and the light that was once orange flashed a strong green. It had found a connection, a passageway to another realm. To Asgard.

Flipping the heavy switch and pressing her hands to the spasming metal, she took it.

 

* * *

 

After crashing through crumbling rock, into a ground that was more ice than snow, the first thing Jane did was vomit pure bile.

She gasped, her breath scorching a fiery cold down into her lungs every time she inhaled. She couldn’t open her eyes in fear of more bodily torment, but she knew that the boiling liquid she just threw up had already turned to mush. The same sense told her of her broken bones, despite her limbs already numb to feeling around her.

Jane was no biologist, and she had also failed the course during high school, but she knew immediately that humans were never meant to survive where she was.

But where _was_ she?

Ignoring the dizziness that threatened more bile to appear, Jane opened her eyes to the blinding white beyond her boundaries. Mountain upon mountain of pewter-gray rock, dusted considerably with snow that was nearly a solid ice. By pure luck, Jane had landed in a patch of crumbled stone along with a generously thawed ice. She was positive that her luck had run out by this point.

She struggled to stand straighter from the crevice, but was only able to slump against the ground into a minuscule spot that was barren of snow. While her skin was numb, beneath her shivering muscles she could feel the throbbing of her broken bones at every move, from her ribs to her elbows to her calves to her fingers. It was a sort of hell; the cold was causing her to be painfully alert, yet her body couldn't comprehend what her mind was telling it to do.

She realized, fleetingly, that this would be where she would die.

She wasn't suicidal, not in the slightest. She would have had every right to be, what with her parents dying so early, her blatant isolation from the rest of the scientific community, Eric’s ‘agreement’ with SHIELD, a certain god who hasn’t visited her in nearing a year… If there was a time for self-harm, it would have to have been around now.

But, she felt no fear at the thought of death, even so close to her as it was beginning to near. In normal circumstances, she would be fighting it off with everything she had; she still had so many more things to write down, to act upon, to read, to watch, to _feel_ …

She blamed it on the cold, like everything else. The plunging temperatures, which were recently keeping her alert, weighed down on her eyelids. She was beginning to give into hypothermia, and... she didn’t mind. Not one bit. She welcomed the warm feeling spreading through her limbs, even. She knew… she _knew_ that this was a reaction to the cold… her body was supplying her with the last of the warmth, to… to shut down her…

As her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, the frigid air sealing her lips into a slight grimace, she vaguely heard the echo of a horn sound around the mountains.

A horn?

She had to use every muscle in her face to open her eyes, to fight against the onslaught of a frozen death. Though, against the cold impacted ground, she saw nothing… she knew what she heard.

She heard survival.

Bracing both hands against the ice, ignoring the distant stab of pain in one of her wrists, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Rocking back, she felt a terrifying round of dizziness, but painfully recovered from the black spots that briefly made up the sky beyond her vision. She thrusted her jaw open, unsealing her lips and tacky mouth, and cleared her throat of the guttural, rolling liquid that didn’t quite make it out with the rest five minutes prior.

“Hey!” She yelled, wishing that she could wave the arms she used for balance. She instead made her voice a higher pitch, nearly a scream, and yelled more. “Help! Anybody! I’m hurt! Help!”

The cries echoed aimlessly against the rocks surrounding her, and her frustrated sigh came out in an angry, fluffy fog. Throwing her head back, facing the sky, she closed her eyes and prayed to whatever god was listening, to convince them that she deserved to live. For now, anyway. She wasn’t going to die by this, there just _had_ to be more meaning to her life. Her flame wasn't going to be flickered out by a stray raindrop.

Bracing herself against the side of the crumbled mountain, she edged herself up the freezing stone despite the numb protest in her limbs. When standing as high as she could, only a slight crouch, she took in a rattling breath and yelled again.

“Help! I’m stuck! He-”

A rumble below her cut off her words as effectively as a a gun, and she dared look down. The ground she was standing on, the small crevice her body had made, was beginning to dip lower into the rock. It seemed as though the mountain itself was hollowed out on the inside, and she was the one caving it in.

" _Fuck_ ," she cursed at the revelation, never much for eloquence.

Ice and rock began to pelt her face from peaks above, and she was powerless against stopping it. Sheets split and shattered beneath her temporarily invalidated body, rocks tumbling and crashing together both below and above her. She watched them fall warily, eyes trailing the rough minerals gradually smooth and chisel the angled mountain face.

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at that, breath billowing into her eyesight, and secured her duffel bag to herself. She quirked her lips the barest amount, and braced herself before forcing a misstep and causing herself to slide down the smoothed face, away from the avalanche.

Oh, it was painful, strikingly so. While her drowsiness was somewhat of a forced anesthesia, it wasn’t enough to mask her broken bones from chipping each other and bits of rock to embed into the cuts adorning her skin. She managed to avoid the larger obstacles, those with the potential to kill her with one blow, and only relaxed when the slope evened out into snow without blemishes. Her eventual stop came at the root of a tree.

Only, it wasn’t a tree.

Five huge, glaring eyes, the color of fresh blood. Sharp pointed teeth. Blue skin, scarred and hardened with war, clenching around fists at the sight of a human on their land.

Jotuns.

And, with that, Jane slid her eyes closed and let consciousness be but a fool’s notion.

 

* * *

 

She was gently rocking, floating on inland waves or swinging by push of a midday breeze. She would have to awake eventually, as she hadn't forgotten where she was and under what circumstances even while unconscious. It was easier to indulge in these vague imaginations, instead of awaking to this vicious chill to face what is certainly her death.

But death was meant to be faced, wasn’t it?

Jane peeled open her eyes, sealed closed by ice, and blearily surveyed her surroundings. She was wrapped in furs, bundled loosely enough so that every particular jolt flashed pain through her broken body. Her duffel bag was nowhere to be seen. The layers weren’t enough to hide her from the cold coming from both angles; one of the winter terrain, the other of the Jotun’s body anchoring her from the pull of gravity.

She risked a glance over the pouch she was cradled within. From her muddled estimation, it looked to be over a ten-foot drop. Even if she did survive it, it wouldn’t be worth it.

All she could do at this point, is wait.

Lights called out from the darkness, reflecting on the marble rocks that were gradually looking more-and-more manmade over the trek. Like a sun, rising above the mountains, sending weak golden light into the attributed oblivion with the fervor of a dying flashlight. Orcish voices pulled her out of reverie, rumbling vibrantly through the fur, and Jane shrunk painfully into the clothes. One replied, somewhere beside them, and the Jotun she was strapped to turned sluggishly to (assumedly) reprimand it, judging from the annoyance lacing its language.

Ah, so that’s the source of the illumination.

A different scenery overtook her line of sight. A stone pathway, dim lanterns levitating along it with the aid of some sort of magic, villages visible in every which direction, either buried into the ground or hollowed into a mountain. And, in the midst of in all, a grand palace that was half-ice, half-rock, nestled seamlessly into the grandest mountainside and spilling golden (metaphorical) warmth into the otherwise depressing world. Jane almost had to shield her eyes, both from the vividance and the incongruity of it all.

She hadn’t realize that her head was sticking out, soaking up her surroundings, until an angry grunt sounded from her carrier. Another fur cloth draped over whatever opening she had, shielding her eyes from wandering, and that was that.

More rocking, now smoother from the leveled grounding. More voices, some hushed, others angry. She would almost prefer quiet, if the alternative was this bombardment (or lack thereof) of emotion. A sudden halt, harshly twisting her pain against the Jotun’s back, and different voices. This one was vaguely female, and overbearingly authoritative. An agreeance of whatever civility they could muster, a grating noise, and they were inside the palace.

It was considerably warmer, and calmer. Was that music in the distant halls? Laughing? A chatter of voices, muffled by walls? A grunt of disgust from those delivering her, choice words muttered back and forth, and they shortly came upon another door. No voices nor grating, only the knock of Jotun upon stone and the gentle slide of the door. A mutter from the Jotun carrying her, biting and quiet, and they entered with an air of arrogance, more rocking and a harder posture from before. Her carrier knelt.

“ _A gift_ ,” the Jotun growled, its first utterance in English, and suddenly the bag Jane was carried within was pulled from its shoulder, and dropped onto the ground. Not a serious throw, but Jane couldn’t help the hiss that slithered through her teeth in pain, bones and cuts jarred sharply. When the discomfort mostly subsided, she risked a glance up.

Oh, it was another Jotun, alright. And this was indeed a throne room, upholstery and stained glass included. Making this strange Jotun king, the next in line after the late Laufey, lounging lazily on its throne and all the while looking unfortunately familiar.

_Shit._

His face was grotesque, angled sharply in places only a skeleton could provide. Off-white horns curled from just behind his temples, broadly parting the natural resting of his hair and curving to a point in the width of his head.  His eyes, framed by long black lashes, only paved the way to a bloody red that overtook the sclera completely, making what should have been white and green become a pool of vibrant crimson. The only thing that breached the color was a dot, a black pinpoint of a pupil that was focused directly on her. His cheekbones seemed swollen, making the rest of his face contrast in deep, malformed shadows. His lips, or lack thereof, opened emotionlessly into a natural grimace for her to glimpse black, pointed teeth.

His flesh (if it could be called that) was the color of a milky film over blue sodalite, the colors fading intensities that ran over the skin she could see. He was clothed unlike the half-naked others, wearing a leather bodysuit that paid more mind to his muscles, which could have been mistaken as bones for the sharp rigidity they carried. Several scars marred his flesh, along with a thin, raised sequence of lines that built imperial designs over his skin.

His hair was the only pleasant thing about him; rather that choppy and severe, the black tresses grew out thin and silkily, falling between his shoulder blades and brushing away from his face effortlessly. His matching eyebrows were neatly trimmed, and were prominently even over what should have been a passionate emotion, alike to the ones she had seen in the past.

Only now, all he held was not an air of unstableness, nor evilness, not even that of mischief:

He held the expression of a fatigued king, about to order the execution of another prisoner he found no need for.

Only, his deep, baritone voice spoke otherwise:

"Jane Foster, to what do I owe the pleasure by your arrival to Jotunheim?"

Before she could answer, another one of the Jotuns stepped forward, dropping into a kneel that just _screamed_ of its mocking nature. Jane watched Loki's fists clench against the arms of the marble throne, and felt a rush of spiteful triumph at the sight. 

They began to converse in the foreign tongue, the brutish Jotun speaking with harsh bites and Loki flowing his words with smooth, flourished enunciations. He steadily grew agitated over the conversation, hiding it well but flicking his eyes to Jane more than necessary. She met his soulless gaze each and every time, her own spinning into a glare that didn't even register on him.

Finally, after what seemed like ages from the hard stone floor, Loki dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, eyes falling back to Jane. He seemed to take no note of her broken form, fingers absentmindedly stroking his chin as he appraised her, akin to inspecting a pig before its slaughter. His voice sliced into the thin cold of the throne room. “Extraordinary.”

She felt herself glare up at Loki without warning, even with her mind yelling at her not to. Her tongue was too quick as well. “Why am I here, your _Majesty_?”

He caught onto her sarcasm, and curled his mouth a tad. She felt a small victory at breaking past his frosty exterior. “I should be asking you the same thing. How is it," he began, standing from the throne he lounged on to take long, lazy steps to where she lied, immobile, "That you, Jane Foster, human lover to the mighty Thor, arrived in a realm unthinkable to visit by those of Midgard? Or, as it is, seemingly unthinkable? I need an explanation."

She gritted her teeth. "Join the club."

He bristled at the hatred in her tone, and Jane saw him battle his emotions. She discovered, for a moment, that she wanted him to get angry. If she were to be stuck in a palace with a beast, once a man, she would like to have him at least act like the old Loki. Not the distant King that he was trying to convince her of. She needed to be able to anticipate his moves, and she hated that she couldn't at the moment. He clenched his jaw and chose to be civil.

"Tell me, dear Jane, what exactly led up to these circumstances? I am no more as happy than you, but I would like to understand the factors contributing to this... _Unhappy_ moment."

Jane glowered up at him, testing the water, and then decided to just wade in with a sigh. "I had just discovered it; how to travel interdimensionally, the formulas that could call to the Bifrost to bring me to Asgard. Only... My computer was bugged, I was stupid to think that it wasn't. I was just setting up the device when I heard SHIELD approaching." She felt a remembrance of fierce hate for the organization, and her blood ran hot. "It was _my_ work, not theirs. I had more right than anyone to visit the realm, to study the stars, to see..." She trailed off, and cleared her throat. "But, the Bifrost has a unique reading. It needed time to set up, but SHIELD took that time away. I... I panicked. I mistakenly thought that the only passageway from Earth is to Asgard, and-"

"But that's the thing!" Loki interrupted, fascination in his echoing voice, "The only interdimensional passageway from Midgard _is_ to Asgard, disregarding the Bifrost. How you broke past the barrier, hitting the mountains that separates Jotunheim from Midgard, is beyond even I. Unless..." He eyed her skeptically. "Were you hit by lightning during the time of the jump?"

"If I was, I would be dead by now," she replied drily.

He seemed to battle a sigh in his throat, eyes trailing away with a vague grimace (nearly all of his expressions are grimaces now). “Just a theory, though I’ll admit an irrational one. Your humanity is such a fragile thing, isn't it?”

Bones broken, muscles torn, skin bleeding. She could only look up with a mirthless smirk. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

At that he seemed to actually take note of her condition. His brows furrowed the barest amount and his expression held something of disgust, or perhaps sympathy. He then let out a low groan, a breathy noise underneath his breath, and averted his eyes. Disgust it is, then.

That only fueled her anger, which hadn’t had the chance to subside. “So, what’s the plan? You get one of your kind to kill me? Throw me back out to die? Enslave me? Please, I’m all ears.”

He met her eyes for a tense moment, narrowing his own thoughtfully, and clasped his hands behind his back in a distinctly imperial manner. His voice was methodical and level, as cold as the terrain outside and just as bleak. "There are three conditions you must follow, if you wish not to be expelled back out into the cold.”

 _It's already cold in here_ , she thought bitterly, but softened her gaze from curiosity nonetheless. "What are the conditions?"

He looked down at her, trying to read her emotions, and a cold smile tinged his lipless mouth. "One, you will continue your work on interdimensional travel while you're here, as I can grudgingly admit that it's not exactly my forte. If SHIELD has a chance of making the same mistake as you, I need to use your handiwork to somehow flip its purpose and mask Jotunheim from possible exploration."

Jane immediately nodded, forgetting the angry exterior that she was supposed to be putting forth. "I don't want them here any less than you do, so I can agree." She hardened her gaze. "I'll need equipment."

He waved his hand. "That can be arranged."

She nodded uncertainly, and warily eyed him to continue.

"Two, you _will not_ associate with the Jotuns in the palace, or anywhere else  on this realm for that matter. Only my orders, saying that anyone who arrives without prior acknowledgement is to be brought to me, kept you alive today. As you may have heard by now, Jotuns are a bloodthirsty kind."

She huffed out an irritated sigh. "So, what? I'm just going to be locked up, never to talk to anyone?" Not that she minded; she had no desire to speak with the beasts that were recently staring hungrily at her, and not at all for what would have been a human reason. She did, however, dislike isolation. "Besides, shouldn't I worry right now, being in a room alone with a bloodthirsty Jotun itself?"

He noticed her use of 'it' when describing him, and averted his eyes angrily. His fists clenched. "While I won't pretend that your blood doesn't call to me, my sense of morality is far, far greater than my hunger. You won't need to worry about your safety on that aspect."

"Morality?" She scoffed incredulously, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "The death toll after your attack on Manhattan was well into the thousands, and would have been more without the Avengers evacuating beforehand. Not that it  would have mattered to you."

He glared coldly at her. "You can decline my condition, if you wish. It'll only take but a minute to escort you back outside."

She tensed her jaw. "Fine. Last condition?"

In a split second, his face dropped its hostility and he hesitated, his fists unclenching to twist uncertainly together behind his back. "Three..." He met her eyes, his own suddenly and strikingly clear. "Try to fall in love with me."

Jane froze, her eyes widening in surprise with a hint of thinly masked disgust. Even her breathing halted. “... What?”

Loki held her gaze relentlessly. “You heard me. If at all possible, look past what I am, what I’ve done, and fall in love with whatever is left.”

Jane couldn’t even yell at him, she didn’t have the strength. She just deleted the condition from her mind, and nodded weakly against the ground. "I agree to your conditions."

If Loki was at all surprised by her passivity, it didn't show. He nodded tightly. "Very well, then. I suppose you need to be healed." He called for a guard, one that didn’t hold a look of hate or warmth, just one of professionalism. Loki snapped a few choice words, not unkindly, and the guard tried to pick her up as gently as it could muster. She must’ve been fully awake, as the pain was more intense than normal, a low whimper pushed from her throat without permission, and Loki’s head quickly turned to her.

“You’ll need to be quiet, I don’t want to alert the palace of your arrival just yet.”

She spoke through her teeth. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep my _agony_ a bit quieter this time.”

Loki’s eye twitched at the blatant sarcasm, and if not for the circumstances Jane would’ve been laughing. He held up a hand, one that she couldn’t help flinch from, and pressed it to her forehead. It wasn’t as cold as she would’ve expected, but still comparable to ice.

“You won’t have a choice.” He muttered a quick word in Jotun tongue, and she was asleep.

 

* * *

 

Jane was beginning to seriously tire from constantly awaking in a daze, though the bed she lied atop was a welcomed change.

Loki’s voice was still past his ragged teeth, melodically deep as he murmured foreign words into the air. His magic wasn’t a flash of green anymore, now taking the color of ivory as it fogged from his mouth, silvery in vapor. Jane knew that she was enspelled at that very moment, pulled deeply into the curse that he was chanting with his familiar, velvet baritone. The mist clouded down to his fingertips even after his words halted, pulsating with hidden power.

“Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” Loki murmured, his hand turning over so his palm was facing the sky. He splayed out his fingers, watching the silvery magic cloud over the blue that dyed his hand. “I no longer have magic learned of an Asgardian, but now the sorcery of the Jotuns. Because I am already familiar with the art, I never had to learn of how to hold it. But…” His eyes narrowed, his thick eyelashes tangling together over the vibrant red. “The only way to yield it is by the native tongue, which I seldom made myself familiar with.”

Jane let her eyes trace over his unnerving features once again, committing the lines and swirling finish to memory. She considered his words, and trailed down to the tome in his right hand. “So, that book... it’s like a spellbook? Like the kind used in black magic, and wizardry?”

He smirked. “I suppose. The difference being, I won’t be burned at the stake for it.”

“Shame.”

His smirk bared into a grin, black and filed to fangs, and he closed the ancient book with a _snap_! He waved his glowing hand beneath her eyes. “Now now, dear Jane. There is no need to be hostile with the one healing your injuries, is there?”

She swallowed, her eyes darting between his face and the frosty magic tingling the space near her chin. She settled on tilting her head up, away from his unnerving appearance. “No.”

“Very well. Now, this shouldn’t hurt at all, but it will feel odd. I’m sure you can handle it.”

She settled with a tight nod. He hummed in approval, and she heard him shift to reach over her body, placing his hand on her swollen ankle.

He was right, it didn’t hurt. His hands, while incredibly cold, were firm yet feather light as they danced over her skin. She felt muscles tightening, connecting and working together to roll the bone back into place. When it did, when his hand lifted from her leg, she flexed her ankle experimentally. It moved and felt as it should, before her arrival to Jotunheim. Intrigued, she tilted her head down and watched as his hand tentatively brushed her opposite calf.

It was strange, watching the sinews ripple on their own accord beneath her skin. “How do you do that?”

He pursed his mouth, the dimple that flashed on his cheek unseemly against his marble skin. “That, I do not know. My Asgardian magic was morphed by my thoughts, so I was always in full control. This…” He gestured with one hand towards the spellbook that was placed on the foot of the bed. “It’s predetermined. If I wanted to make something that had no translation into the Jotun tongue, it could not be done.”

“Predetermined by what, exactly?” Discomfort aside, she was definitely curious, and probed him further on the land he now ruled. “If the Jotun language is the same as the tongue in that book, what’s keeping everyday conversation from turning into an all-out magical battle? There has to be some fine line between all of that.”

“Ever the scientist, even this far from home,” he commented, drumming his fingers against her knees to mend the broken skin. “What you ask is valid, being a concern of mine when I first arrived. It’s all about the frame of mind.” He tapped a finger to his temple, emphasizing his words. “If you weave magic with your voice, what you say becomes reality. It takes a certain amount of restraint to keep magic from becoming too powerful when released, though, so many use this book of spells for further control.”

She held back a smirk, and instead jabbed at his ego. “So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a very strong restraint?”

He barked out a laugh, his sharpened black teeth bared. “No, dear Jane, but you’re too weak for my magic without hindrance. To make sure that you don’t become completely morphed together into the human equivalent of what was once called ‘Pangea’, I suggest you leave well enough alone and allow my conditions.”

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But, you never answered my first question.”

“My apologies,” he said blandly, inspecting a bruise on her upper thigh with his unusually sharp red eyes. “Refresh my memory.”

She bristled at his obvious devil-may-care attitude, but ignored it otherwise and instead voiced her thoughts. “This spellbook... Who is it predetermined by?”

He flitted over her shorts and instead hooked his thumb at the hem of her shirt, yanking it up to just underneath her breasts without warning. He didn’t pay any mind at her obvious surprise, and instead dragged his gaze over her middle with a critical eye. “It’s not certain as to whom it was made by. Maybe Laufey, maybe Thrym, maybe others in that Norse mythology you people on Midgard know so well. I’ve come to realize that it’s all the same, what’s happening here as opposed to what is written in the books there. The only difference is what I make of it.”

She blinked at him. “How… valiant of you.”

He scoffed. “Hardly. ‘Valiant’ isn’t in my vocabulary, nor should it be in anyone’s while addressing my person. Now, stop talking, and limit your breathing. Your ribs will be tricky to mend even without your incessant blabbering.”

 

* * *

 

Jane awoke to a hand petting down her hair.

While she attempted to calm her immediate reaction, her body proved too quick for her. Her muscles tensed, her nostrils flared, and her lungs took in a copious amount of air on their own accord. The hand stilled, and knowing that the false sense of surprise was already lost, she peeled her eyes open to the golden light above her.

Sitting beside her bed was a young Jotun.

Jane, her adrenaline on high, carefully edged up the bed until her back was tensed on the pillows, parallel to the headboard. Her hands, fisted in the sheets on either side, turned cold at the foreign presence in the otherwise warm room.

Its eyes, unblinking and vibrantly red, were carefully darting from each of her own. Its skin was baby blue, not yet darkened from the unforgiving winter, and its marble-like skin seemed wrongfully pudgy. The lines that decorated its skin were more floral than imperial, and it had a smidge of flecked navy around its mouth as lips. Jane calmed a little at its obvious immaturity, but then remembered the fact of its bloodthirsty nature, without built restraint. Her fear returned.

“Hello,” it said hesitantly, its long eyelashes fluttering over its eyes. She liked its human reaction, its tentative nature, which caused another unwanted fluctuation of her emotions. She blinked as well, tilting her head a miniscule amount in response to her curiosity.

“Hello,” she replied, trying to identify its gender. Its hair was semi-restrained, several cornrows running along the left side of its head and the remaining midnight strands lined with gem-like beads, falling just above its shoulder. Its body was draped with a thick woven cloak, sewn with threads of differinggrayscale intensities, falling to the ground and clasping itself against its neck with metal buttons. The sleeves were lined with white fur, which also showed at its neck and puffed around the hem at its feet.

Jane continued. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I am Rafir, loyal to the palace,” it explained, placing a delicate hand against its chest. Its voice wrung, like silver bells. “My King has requested for me to take my place as your personal servant.”

Jane furrowed her eyebrows, relaxing her composure only a little. “I don’t need a personal servant.”

Rafir sighed, though not condescendingly. Only somewhat frustrated. “Jotuns who haven’t reached their adulthood yet have no thirst for blood. I am the Midgardian equivalent of a seven year old, so my King appointed me to you in hopes of keeping you safe.” Its voice was clear, but it enunciated every syllable like it was unsure of what exactly it was saying. “The others around the palace do not hold the same restraint. I can protect you if need be.”

“How can the equivalent of a seven year old, shorter than even me, protect me from a bloodthirsty Frost Giant?” Jane couldn’t hide her skepticism.

“My King taught me the art of magic when he arrived, which I hold better than others in the kingdom. If there is one who can keep you under protection while my King is away, it is I.”

Not wanting to upset the young Jotun, unsure of how it would react, Jane nodded in reverence. She then looked out the window beside her with a sense of distaste. “Where exactly is your king? Does your kind not sleep?”

It wasn’t fazed. “We do, but not as frequently as Midgardians do. But I do not understand why you would question that, it is well past morning.”

“Really?” She asked in surprise, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to span the sky more avidly with her wandering eyes. It was still pitch black, several moons decorating the heavily-starred sky, not a hint of blue to signal approaching dawn. “How can you tell?”

Rafir walked around the bed, shuffling next to her to survey the view she held. Its eyes trailed the horizon, alike to her own. “The alignment of the stars does well, as it shows a different scene every rotation. The way constellations point, as the move with us each turn of the land. The position of the moons, where they hang in the sky, whether or not Jotunheim cuts the light of one into a crescent. Or…” Rafir suddenly smirked, pointedly turning its head to the wall above the headboard. “The clock is always a helpful reminder.”

Jane whipped her head around, her eyes locking on the clock that held more digits than what she was used to. Instead of feeling her cheeks flame with indignation, she allowed a mirror smirk to tilt her lips whenever she looked back to the young Jotun. Not every Jotun has to be rude and brutish, it seems.

“Rafir, I think that you and I will get along just fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

“The King has requested your attendance at dinner tonight,” Rafir said as _she_ (Jane had learned of her gender during conversation) brushed dreamily through the woman’s hair. Jane scowled, narrowing her eyes at her reflection.

“Tell him that I can’t go.”

Rafir _tsk_ ed. “You cannot refuse the _King_ , Jane, no matter what troubled past you have with him. The women in the palace can only dream of being invited to dine with the King, especially one as handsome as he.”

Jane’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping from surprise. “Loki? _Handsome?_ I mean, sure, his other form wasn’t hard to look at, but _now_ …”

“... He’s a beast to you,” Rafir finished sadly, her hands unfaltering against Jane’s hair. The young Jotun sighed, her breath light and cool. “Jotuns are not as ugly and mean as we are said to be. The Jotuns that brought you, the ones you have seen, were a part of the late King Laufey’s private forces, and hold a grudge against our current King for that. But, in reality…” Her voice dropped into a murmur. “ _No one_ liked Laufey. He was ruthless, frightening, he kept the palace dark and never let the towns have festivity nor music. He never cared for the castle grounds, he let snow fall freely in and never repaired the stone whenever he became angry and destroyed the walls.

“King Loki, though… He changed that.” Jane heard Rafir put the brush down, and began absentmindedly braiding her hair. “He came here angry and destructive, not knowing anything in the Jotun tongue, but after a day of exploring he found a book of our language, written in one that he was already familiar in. Already holding magic within his words, he began to rebuild Jotunheim. The castle was no longer half in ruins, with jagged stone and unrelenting snow, but polished with smooth marble with its original stone undertones, holding ice instead of glass. He painted the ceiling with ink that glittered like gems, making a great map of all the realms and their kingdoms. He even lit the palace up with a golden glow, something unheard of in all of Jotunheim’s history. But, the greatest thing that he has brought to us… is the music.”

Jane expected her to elaborate, to give examples, but she only answered the thoughts with a musical hum underneath her breath, light and sweet. Jane groaned quietly, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “That’s all great, Rafir, and I’m not saying that to dispel you. But I’m not exactly _comfortable_ around Loki, and I would rather not-”

“Attend dinner with me?”

Jane immediately jumped out of her seat, pulling her hair from Rafir’s hands and spinning around to the entryway.

Loki stood there, his arms crossed against his leather-clad chest, leaning against the doorway with a cool smile slanted across his mouth. His skin contrasted deeper in the lights of the study, the blue battling the orange-like gold for dominance while still cutting angular shadows into his features. He nodded to Rafir, his eyes gentling to the young girl, and she hurriedly bowed and sent Jane a small smile before leaving the study.

Jane grimaced after her.

Loki didn’t move from his position, but he kept an unreadable emotion on his face. “You know, I’m not _that_ terrible,” he teased lowly.

She knew that he was teasing, because even him, more than _anybody_ , knew how terrible he actually was. He seemed to catch onto that, his eyes tensing around bloody red, but he dismissed it lightly as he pushed calmly from the wall and stepped forward.

"This dinner isn't just for my benefit," he explained, clasping his hands behind his back in an imperial manner. "It isn't a 'date', nothing of the sort, despite my words to you earlier in the throne room. It is merely a meeting that I need you to be a part of, and nothing more."

Jane stared at him blankly. "I only just recently arrived, Loki. How could you possibly need-”

He raised up a hand, and she grudgingly held her words. "Don't question me, nor Jotunheim customs. It will be easier to negotiate with you accompanying me, and that's final."

Against her better instincts, she turned her back to him, cheeks coloring with indignation. She squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her jaw. "And if I refuse?"

It was a dangerous game, and she was determined to win. She could practically feel Loki's smirk in the air, and heard his breathy chuckle from the entryway. From this position, facing away with aid of only his voice, he almost wasn't a monster. 'Almost' being that he had always been a monster, a beast of different faces. From here, though, he could be considered his former brand of normal.

"I could say that I won't kill you, but that would be boring, wouldn't it?" His steps sounded closer, and Jane's eyes darted to the mirror hanging on the wall. He was still far enough away before worry.

“I’ve had enough near-death experiences for a lifetime, haven’t I?”

“That you have.” He cleared his throat, inspecting a painting hung on the wall absentmindedly. “I have your bag that you arrived with, untouched. After dinner, I’ll return it to you.”

A twinge in her heart, but she hid it well. “It’s what you want me to have most of all, isn’t it? Your first condition, that I find a way back to Earth. This seems to only benefit you, as my information is solely stored in there.”

“We both know that’s not all there is.”

 _Damn_. She had really hoped he wouldn’t have known. Jane swallowed audibly, and turned back around. “Okay, Loki. I’ll attend dinner with you. I’ll even act civil. But you have to promise me that, the moment I discover a way back to Earth, that you give me a way to return to Asgard.”

Any semblance of mirth dropped from his features, expression hardening, and he looked away. “I won’t be able to do that.”

She wasn’t thrown off. She had expected that, even. “Fine.”

His jaw clenched, and he sniffed indignantly. “Fine.”

And then he stalked from the throne room, looking all the part of a bratty prince being refused his toy. She watched him leave, watched his shoulders clench from rage, and a smirk began to paint her lips.

This… this she could work with.


	2. part ii - King of Winter

When Jane emerged from her bedroom that morning, duel moons still high in the sky, her duffel bag was awaiting her in the doorway. 

Dirtied and rumpled against the stained marble floor, a hole torn in the nylon on one side, she almost wanted to cry with relief upon the sight. Snatching it up to her chest, she made her way to one of the plush sofas and carefully sat, folding her legs underneath her and setting the duffel onto the coffee table in front of her. The bag, while containing more things than not that didn't hold any value, was familiar in an otherwise and literal alien world. She unzipped it slowly, letting the rapid sound break the quiet.

“Jane?” Rafir asked (she had been scolded for calling her ‘Lady Foster’), her quick legs a blur as she slid across the room. She looked at the bag with unmasked curiosity, mouth quirking open just barely. “The King ordered that I not disturb it, when he brought it.”

“Oh?” Jane said vaguely, head tipping in acknowledgement. Rafir hummed her affirmation, perching into the armchair opposite of the couch.  Jane tore her eyes away from the bag, continuing to Rafir. "And when was that?"

“Shortly after you fell asleep, he brought it.” Her short legs swung mindlessly, bare toes brushing the rug. There was an odd glint in her eye. “He seemed sorry.”

Jane scoffed. “He doesn’t feel ‘sorry’, Rafir, it’s not in his nature. He just wants to find a way back to Earth, that’s all.” The zip was slightly crooked near the end, but she was able to jerk it open the rest of the way. She heard Rafir  _ tsk  _ under her breath behind her, but she ignored it. 

“What is this?” The young Jotun asked, picking up a bright red fabric from the top. 

Jane smiled, taking the garment from her and laying it flat on the couch. “Shorts. You wear them when it’s hot outside. I guess you don’t have much use for them here.” 

Rafir shook her head slowly, a sense of wonder against her cheeks. With a quirk of her lips, Jane took out the contents one by one for the girl.

Another pair of shorts and sweatpants. Three shirts, and a jacket. Underwear. Toiletries, a pair of running shoes, and some socks. Underneath it was her iPad, broken from the fall. A pocketknife that she praised her past self for packing. Bottles of water and some granola bars. 

But this.  _ This.  _ This is why she so desperately needed the bag. Reaching a hand into the left shoe she had packed, she pulled out the plastic blue stick. The USB drive containing all the information she needed towards rebuilding the device capable of switching realms. The device had only jumped her from Earth, obliterating itself in the process: there were no scraps of it to be used. The information on this little stick would remind her of the materials needed towards creating another interdimensional hopper, twin to the one destroyed. The only issue was that her iPad, even if in working order, did not have a USB slot. Either she had to hope that Jotunheim was in its technological phase, or she had to build a computer herself. 

Pocketing the knife and the USB, she flashed a grin towards Rafir that even the god of lies would be suspicious of. “Tell your king that I will attend dinner with him, after all. It seems like we have a compromise to make.”

 

* * *

“What is this of you attending dinner with me?” Loki demanded a mere eight minutes later, striding into the bedroom Jane was lounging in. He was caught off guard by her agreement, a feeling she knew he loathed. She was playing catch with the drive out of boredom, seeing how high it could arch in the tall room. She caught Rafir’s eyes from behind Loki, and gave her a wink. 

“You weren’t expecting my submission, were you?” Jane asked instead, tossing the USB to the side. Loki’s eyes narrowed on it for a moment, and then flickered back up to her. 

“ _ That _ was what was so important in your bag? I was expecting a human weapon instead, like one of those guns you all are so fond of.” Quick as his tongue, he grabbed it from the bed. Jane made no move to stop him, only watched the play of emotions on his otherworldly face. He inspected it with a trained eye, dark fingernails testing its resilience, but afterwards he seemed more curious than before. “What is it?”

“A memory stick. It has all of the information needed towards creating a device capable of jumping realms.” She sat up, voice building in intensity. “You plug that into a computer. Only, I’m guessing there are no computers here. And from that, a computer needs electricity. I have a funny feeling that sorcery is the main source of power here. To make the device needed for ending this little roommate scenario we have going, we’re going to have to connect the dots.”

Setting the drive on a shelf, he perched himself on the edge of the bed. Jane instinctively shifted further away. “And I suppose that your bargaining chip for a computer is attending this dinner with me, is it?”

His proximity was stifling. Rolling off the bed, she grabbed the USB from its perch and pocketed it. Rafir was standing in the doorway, stiff as a board and uncertain what to do, so Jane sent her off before turning back to the restless king. 

“If it were, would you have access to one?”

He shrugged, settling further into the cushion. It bothered Jane more than she let on. “To get a computer, I would have to have a route to Midgard. And therein lies our dilemma.” He licked his mouth, a habit she’s sure, and leaned on his elbows. “To the very south, where the snow is thin and waters unfrozen, there is a group of nomads. Laufey had chosen to let them be, as they were too unaccustomed to the extreme cold to be of value to his armies. He was unknowing of their true value. They are the most technologically advanced of the land, utilizing our magnetic barrier and creating a form of communication amongst the colonies.”

Jane hummed under her breath, mind spiralling. There was an odd rapport between them, not of kindness but of a similar goal that they were both determined to match. “I don’t even need a device capable of communication, just one that can interpret the drive.” Her eyes slotted sideways, glancing at the Jotun from the side. “If we are both in agreement, then, do I still have to go to dinner with you?”

Rocking back up to his feet, Loki  _ tsk _ ed lightly. “First and foremost, I never voiced any agreement. The nomads are notoriously… well, I’m not sure if antisocial is the word. They maim whoever comes near. Second of all, though, this dinner is oddly enough correlated to the possibility of opening ties to further colonies. If there is a chance, this would be one.”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”

Loki laughed, a cold cackle that was wholly uninviting, and strided to the doorway. “It won’t be that easy to coax an answer out of me, my dear. Rafir will dress you accordingly. Until tonight.”

Her eyes trained on his form, listening for the door to close. “Until tonight,” she repeated quietly, thoughtful, before sliding on her tennis shoes and quietly following him out.

 

* * *

Loki gone from sight and Rafir busy in her own quarters, Jane sneaked into the palace. 

It was cold, though that was expected in the kingdom of winter. The palace seemed more vibrant at night, with the light from the twin moons casting pearly beams onto the marble. Jane had suspected that it was morning whenever she awoke, but there was no light to the sky and the halls were suspiciously empty. Perhaps Loki was just a night owl, or alongside the same sleep schedule as she. There was no music playing. Jane couldn’t decide if she found it more eerie or calming, so she continued on. 

There were doors upon doors, a scenery that she had missed the first time around. Which wasn't surprising, as she has been severely crippled and unconscious during the grand tour. Each door was closed, the candles around them already extinguished. 

All except for one, nestled nearly out of sight behind a curtain, slightly sheer as it swayed. Its candle was a dim flame, colored blue from the foreign oil. The door was difficult to make out, some sort of magic masking it from sight unless she focused directly on it. With a last glance around the hall, the stillness only betrayed by the thrum of her heart, Jane ducked inside. 

There was an energy in the air, though instead of it being repelling, she welcomed it. The Aether may be gone from her blood, but the taste of its magic remained. Unthinkingly, with a sort of magnetism in her movements, she went further down the great hall.

There were no doors for quite some time, only the occasional turn and unevenness of flooring. The walls gradually began to narrow, so slow that it almost seemed like a trick of the mind. The tunnel of sorts seemed intentionally misleading and excessive, as if to bore the aimless wanderer. But Jane had a curious streak, especially towards the god of lies, so her perseverance could not be wavered.

It eventually morphed into a stairwell, descending into the unknown. It was stiflingly small, even for her. Was this even fit for Jotuns, their own frames nearly thrice as hers? Her breath fogged with even greater ferverance during the decline, the hairs on her arm standing stiff. Gooseflesh prickled her skin, despite the layers she wore in this land. This was definitely a winter different than that of New Mexico's.

Finally, as if entering a pool of pure energy, she arrived at an alcove. 

It was small, simple, with a bookshelf off to the side and an clothes padding her feet. The books were from Earth, she realized with surprise. Why would Loki, who disliked anything human, keep books from that race even in hiding? In the center of the room, though, in the freezing haze of fog, was a pedestal. 

And upon the pedestal, wrapped in a blanket of thick glittering aura, was an apple. 

It was golden, like the hard mineral kind, shined and looking to break a tooth or two if bitten. It was nestled in a thicket of silver vines, twisting around differing leaves of greens and reds. The pedestal it rested on was of pure ice, unmelting in the complete frigidity of the room. Jane could feel more ice through her shoes, underneath the ornate rug that floored the room. Her breath was colored with the frost in the air. 

An apple. This room seemed too insignificant for such an intricate trek, all for a fruit. She wracked her brain to find any sort of significance in the scene, but nothing came to mind.

It seemed to call to her, its surface polished and unmarred. She stepped closer, feeling the moisture on her eyelashes beginning to crystalize. She reached a hand out with the intent of a gentle touch, fingertips numb.

A door slammed shut.

She whipped around, back knocking into the pedestal. The slam came from a distance, the loud bang echoed down the halls of the tunnel. Brute words in the harsh tongue of the Jotuns sounded too close, due to the marbled walls. Jane had minutes until their arrival.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape in the compact room she was in. She realized that while the hall had narrowed, the height had stayed significant. A Jotun, while uncomfortable, could easily slide through the gap.

_ The hall had narrowed.  _ If she ran now, she could reach the Jotun guards while the hall was still wide enough for her to attempt a pass. Fists clenched and a determined fire in her heart, she took off running. Unfortunately, the guards were closer than she originally thought, the halls only five yards wide. There were two of them, and perhaps a third keeping watch near the front. She skidded to a stop, feet squeaking the barest amount against the marble, and twin heads turned to her. 

“Midgardian,” one grunted, taking a thunderous step forward. His skin was scarred beyond repair, and one of his ears was missing. “I could practically taste your blood in the air. No wonder the  _ king  _ keeps you locked up, all to himself.”

“ _ Jotun,”  _ she grimaced in response, keeping her back stiff. The knife was still in her pocket, though she doubted its usefulness on a being practically made of ice and stone. Still, it was something. Not wanting to make a sudden move, she stuck close to the wall and inched her way forward. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be down here, huh?” 

The second one grinned, a macabre twist of his mouth that sent a shiver down Jane’s spine. His voice was heavily accented, usually reserved for the grating tone of his Jotun tongue. “When I scent a Midgardian, a half-bred king’s wishes is not enough to stop me.”

Her neck was bent at an uncomfortable forty-five degrees over the horizon to meet the giant’s eyes, even from their considerable distance. “If I die, you die. I’m sure that your king has made it perfectly clear that you should never interact with me.”

“Our allegiance lies with Laufey,” the closest one growled. “His lamed son is of no importance, even if the trickster himself attempts to punish us.” A deep inhale, then. “The Aether in your blood is too tempting for a Jotun to overlook.” 

Another step, Jane’s fingers twitching at her pocket. The knife seemed to weigh a thousand bricks, the way it dragged against her side. “The Aether was removed, my blood is clean from it.”  _ Though it still remembers. _

The Jotuns were not the brightest, it seemed, dumb to Jane’s sneaking form. The fact that she was aiming for the only opening was lost on them. The closest guard bent, leveling himself with Jane as the gap inched smaller and smaller. “Why, but the Aether remains,” he hissed quietly, a sinister edge to his words. “It calls to me, as I know it calls to you. You feel it thrum through your veins, compelling to things otherworldly like snow to the dirt. You want the power it promises, the power it craves. You wish to be  _ queen.” _

Jane was foolish in that moment, letting herself be drawn into the harsh fluidity of the Jotun’s voice. The words were untrue, but something beneath her skin stirred, something primal that was previously hidden from view.  _ The Aether.  _ She took a step too soon, and before she could truly realize her mistake, claws scratched their way against her torso and she was thrust into the air. With a cry she felt her shoulder dampen with blood, and the Jotun inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils at the scent. 

Her fingers were locked around the pocketknife, hidden from view, and her thumb hovered  shakily over the push-button. Her chest heaved with gulps of air at the shock, and her muscles were as tense as if frozen. Her voice was sure. “My only wish is to never have the misfortune of being touched by a frost giant  _ ever again, _ ” she cried, before flipping open the knife and driving it into the soft flesh underneath one of the Jotun’s claws. With a furious yowl, she was dropped. 

Landing directly on her feet and wincing when something within her ankle jerked, she ignored the pain and dodged around the bemoaning giant’s legs. It was only then when she remembered the second guard, the one with the horrific smile. She was trapped by him in front, the enraged Jotun beginning to stomp to his feet behind her, and the walls were too narrow. There was no escaping this, it seemed. 

That is, until the king arrived in a flurry of motion. 

“Stay away!” Loki growled, arms flung open into a purely aggressive stance and voice dangerously low and guttural. He was whispering in violent tongues under his breath, untamed energy cracking from his mouth down to the tips of his fingers. Though his physique was almost laughably smaller and slimmer than that of the Jotun guards, he had an unmatched aura of intimidation coming off of him like heat waves from a concrete pavement. Though she couldn’t see his expression from behind, she could easily deduce that it was downright terrifying, if the unsure looks of the guards was anything to go by.

He turned his head just a fraction, so he could keep an eye on the hostile Jotuns but still talk to her. “Go back to your chambers. Don’t look back. I’ll be there shortly to tend to your wounds.”

Jane hesitated, torn in the moment. “Go!” He barked, sharpened teeth bared, and she hastily retreated back out into the hallway.

Her feet hit the ground twice in a second, strides long and purposeful. She hit the turns with rough shoulders, skidding around to each direction. When she emerged, she found the palace to be much more lively than before. While it was still dim outside, there was a small blue orb in the sky, the gentle sun figuratively shining onto the land. Golden lights made up for what the star lacked, alighting the castle into a scene akin to an Asgardian day. Jotuns in rich clothes and jewelry strode purposefully through the halls, in all sizes and shades of blue. They paid no attention to her, save for the occasional brush as one passed. 

_ These  _ were the bloodthirsty Jotuns? The creatures Loki attempted to shield her from? While their eyes were all that same bloody red, and frames rigid like rock in places humans would have curves, they just seemed like… people. Music played lightly around her, a sonata with a soothing violin and lively flute. 

And then she remembered that blood was dripping from her shoulder, and as the adrenaline wore off she felt something torn or ripped in her ankle. The newfound energy that thrummed in her blood lessened into legato vibrations, heavy at the bones behind her ears. Not wishing to push her luck, she finished the route back into her quarters. There, Rafir was waiting. 

“Jane!” Rafir cried, colliding with Jane in a frantic embrace. She pulled back, her wide rubied eyes filled with tears. “I thought someone had taken you, Jane! Loki was furious when he discovered that you were missing!”

Jane furrowed her eyebrows, hands gentle on the girl’s shoulders. “Not seconds after him and I spoke, I left. Even then, I wasn’t out for too long. How did he discover that I was gone so quickly?”

“‘For too long’?” Rafir shook her head quickly, in rapid jolts. “Jane, you have been gone for nine Earth hours! Two meals have passed, and the moons have far since left the sky.”

Jane froze, mind whirling through the fact. Her fingers tensed on Rafir’s arms. “That’s impossible.”

“Yet  _ so very true _ ,” Loki growled as he stormed into the room. His torso was slashed, and black blood wettened the cut at his bodysuit. Otherwise, he was unharmed. “Nine hours, human. You were gone for  _ nine hours.  _ What were you doing in my private quarters?”

Jane didn’t turn around. “I was only gone for twenty minutes, thirty tops. I don’t-”

A hand hard as stone curved around her shoulder, jerking her around. She was met with hardened eyes, trained unnervingly onto hers. “I will say this _ once _ and _ once only _ , mortal. Never wander outside these quarters without me  _ ever  _ again, and  _ stay away from that room. _ Is that clear?”

Jane took her own step forward, revelling in the slight waver at Loki’s form. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

His face was grim. “No.” And then he turned to Rafir, hand rising in the air, until the younger girl began to choke. Jane instinctively ran to her, eyes wide, but it was no use. The girl hung suspended in the air, legs kicking frantically. Loki’s face was drawn, mouth set, and Jane threw out her former hesitation.

“Don’t kill her!” She pleaded, sincerely. “It’s not her fault I wandered! 

Rafir scrambled as the invisible force tightened at her neck, fingers scratching periwinkle lines into the flesh. Loki's eyes were a blazing fire, severe eyebrows even more severely stretched across his brow in angry sweeps. His fingers twitched in midair, curled around the shape of Rafir’s neck just feet away. 

Jane could feel her own fury unraveling in her chest, and she couldn’t contain it any longer. With a cry, she rammed into the Jotun.

While his body was hard and strength harder, he was not expecting her attack. He fell to the ground with a heavy grunt, Jane on top and gritting her teeth against her injuries. She heard Rafir fall to the ground, coughing and scrambling for the pair. 

“How  _ dare  _ you,” Loki hissed, face drawn tenser than usual with pain. He scrambled up so his back was propped against a bookshelf. “To the one who protects you no less?”

“ _ Then kill me, _ ” Jane hissed back. She kicked away from the Jotun, eliciting another groan in response. “If being protected means being tormented by a  _ beast _ , then strand me back out in the snow.”

Some of the malice leaked from his face, eyes drawn to the floor. Rafir reached him first, and without hesitation began tending his wound with her delicate sorcery. His breaths were harsh with anger. “I cannot do that, Jane. While I loathe speaking it aloud, you are my only hope for leaving this frozen wasteland and returning to my hom- to Asgard.”

There were questions on Jane’s lips, but she only set him with a stare. They grappled with their glares for a bit, both throbbing from pain and injury. Jane, a mere mortal, was pained much more than he. He soon lost interest in their little game of stares. Face painted emotionless, Loki stood from his heap as the rest of his icy flesh was healed. His face, even marred as such, set an imperialism that Jane would be a fool to ignore. 

“I can, however, make your life miserable during your stay. Until then, consider this your one and only warning: never venture back out into the halls. And  _ never  _ set foot into the my quarters ever again. Once again: am I clear?”

Jane closed her eyes, jaw firm. She was no fool, but she flirted the boundaries. “Crystal.”

He appraised her for just a moment, an almost thoughtful slant to his mouth. And then the look vanished, spun away as he paced from the room. 

“Rafir will heal and dress you, our guests have nearly arrived.” He spoke over his shoulder, not dissimilar from only a few minutes (hours?) before. When the door closed behind him, Jane released a breath she was unaware she had been holding, and turned to the young Jotun. The girl’s neck was darkening into the color of ripened blackcurrant. 

“Come,” Rafir says, voice hoarse. Her eyes were wholly free of sorrow. “I have prepared you a bath.”

* * *

 

 

The dress was starchy, the collar high on her throat. The black fabric was covered in silver ornaments, the same tinkering beads that Rafir had wound through Jane’s hair. She had thin lines of white drawn along her cheekbones and up her chin, a homage to the inherent tattoos that Jotun’s had naturally against their skin. Other than that, her skin was bare of any jewelry or makeup. 

Rafir was dabbing a perfume at Jane’s pulse points as Jane bemoaned to her reflection. “I look like that sea-witch from Pirates of the Caribbean. Only with worse hair. Is this  _ really  _ the traditional wear for the dinner?”

Obviously ignoring the first part, Rafir refined the lines at Jane’s chin. “There has never been a human on Jotunheim before. This is the clothing of a debutante, the closest equivalent to your status. If you are dissatisfied, wearing the traditional clothing of the Jotun woman would not be amiss.”

Jane peeked at the girl in the mirror, lips pursing. “Naked?”

Rafir hummed in acknowledgement. “Alongside various jewelry and further body ink.”

Jane laughed, although somewhat guiltily from the memory of her wrongdoing earlier. She did not regret discovering Loki’s hidden-away secret, but she never meant to cause the girl harm. Swallowing down the nth apology, she opted for something a bit more thoughtful. “Rafir… There’s something that doesn’t add up.” At the girl’s hum of interest, Jane continued on. “It’s about my wandering earlier into that long hallway. For a secret that your king was prepared to kill you over, he didn't keep it well kept, did he?" Jane was restless, in both body and mind. "He keeps me here because there are too many Jotuns in the palace, yes? I walked through what was supposed to be a major corridor, but I didn't run into even one of your kind. Every door was locked, except for that room. There was nothing blocking my path, nothing that I had to get past, and knowing Loki he would stick every trick up his sleeve into that room to hide a secret so big.

“I was told that there are guards roaming the palace. Again, not one spotted. Something like that isn’t just ‘luck of the draw’, so to say. It was almost as if… it was  _ meant  _ to be discovered.” Jane whipped around, meeting the young Jotun’s eyes with an alightened shine. “Have you ever been in there before? The room behind the curtain?”

Rafir shook her head, perching on the arm of the chair behind her. Her toes wriggled as they swung. “My king forbids it. During the beginning of his reign, he blocked off the room with a masking charm to paralyze any who entered it. I rarely even glance it myself, a sort of magic hiding it from view. There are no rumors of its interior, as none have dared enter.”

“The guards didn’t hesitate. And I’m  _ sure _ they didn’t see me enter. And a charm? That a mortal could bypass?” Biting her lip, Jane sat back in her chair properly. Rafirs cool fingers kneaded more pins into her hair. “The more I discover, the more my mind gets scrambled.”  _ Let alone the feeling of the Aether in my blood once again. _

Grumbling, Jane sunk further in her seat, already regretting her agreement towards Loki’s dinner. “What is the significance of tonight, anyway? Why was my compliance so important?”

With a shrug, Rafir settled gracefully beside Jane. “I am not involved in political affairs. Though in palace gossip, I am well informed. There is news of Jarls visiting, the small provincial leaders in the northeastern glaciers. They are a peculiar group, secluded save for the wordless sorcery they have perfected. They can kill with a look, and conquer with a whisper. Their knowledge of the intricacies of the worlds surpass none. I have heard that they bring with them the gift of this consciousness.” She glanced up at Jane through her eyelashes. “They are slighter than us, more human-like in their emotions and filled with curiosity that the late king Laufey loathed. Your presence may give them more favor in sharing this gift with our king Loki.”

Jane tightened her lips, but felt the beginning of interest in her veins. A variation on the Jotun race? She has seen this land in black and white, unknowing of the grays that may smudge in between. Perhaps she must rethink the Jotun realm. She abruptly stood, shoulders cutting high. “I’m ready. I think. Where are the king’s quarters?”

Rafir cocked her head, a curious tilt to her chin. “Why, right where we’re standing! This is the furthest living area from the rest of the palace, so my king saw it fit to place you here.”

Jane spun around to face the girl directly. She swallowed down the harsher words she wished to speak, lips flattened against her teeth. “Where does he live now?”

“Here and there, from what I have gathered. He has never slept much regardless, though recently I have caught him dozing in the library or atop his throne.” She eyed Jane carefully. “The spare rooms are still being built, extending from the main hall further into the mountains. For this there are no vacancies, and as king he dislikes inconveniencing those that serve him for trivial matters. For now, he dresses in his throne room and awaits you there.”

Ever perturbed, Jane let a a shiver ripple her skin. Clearing her head with a shake, she gestured Rafir to the door. “Lead me to him.”

 

* * *

Since Jane was told of Loki’s lack of sleep, she noticed things that she wouldn’t have prior. When she entered the familiar throne room unannounced, guards watching her pass with graveness in their eyes, she caught the glimpse of the tired king beneath the infuriating god, reminiscent of his expression after she had first arrived. The shadows beneath his brows were darker than a Jotunheim dusk, and the pure exhaustion that trickled from the downturn of his mouth threatened to pool in the air. But then he saw Jane, and the cool facade of his trickster’s mask slid back into place. 

“How nice it is to see you, my dear Jane,” he drawled, aligning the circlet at his forehead. His horns were decorated with thin strands of gold, hanging jewels from them like ornaments on a christmas tree. An intricate golden necklace hung heavy against his breast, and an imperial cloak was clasped across his shoulders, as thick and dark as night. Underneath, he was clothed in a simple variation of a loincloth. Jane suddenly found herself severely overdressed.

“Likewise,” Jane replied slowly, wary of what was to come. The sun had made a quick revolution across the sky, the tops of the moons already peaking at the horizon. The room was quiet and dim, the unhurried rush of her blood audible in the dead space. With a final brush of his mantle, Loki turned thoughtfully to face the grand windows that kissed at the sky. His feet were bare. 

“Your Aether is stirring,” he said conversationally, as if discussing the layer of clouds in the sky. That same thrum underneath Jane’s skin arose, a flurry of movement sounding in her ears. She closed her eyes to drown it out. “I had detected traces of it as I healed you before, but now I can taste it within my bones. It is a tangible presence in the air, its energy surpassed by none. If so inclined, you could soon destroy this realm on a whim.”

A mirthless smile tugged at Jane’s lips. “I’m human, Loki. It’ll kill me.”

That was when he grinned, eyes alight. “I am not.”

Jane narrowed her eyes, mouth pursed in disapproval. “I would be a fool to give you this kind of power. I would also be a fool to let it feed off of me until I die. Is there a way to stall its awakening? Keep it asleep for just a bit longer?”

Face turned cool when she denied him the Aether, Loki only nodded. “I suppose, if you stay away from any and all things magic that call to it. This means no more exposure to sorcery, nor healing, nor secret rendezvous into the castle where the energy dwells. Living your life as you did on Midgard, in the absence of magic. Doing this will almost definitely elongate its slumber.”

Jane couldn’t help but throw her hands into the air, exasperated. “I don’t want it to sleep! I want answers. Why did it come back? It’s been, what, over a year since Malekith took it back?”

“It must attract to you, then. Some stayed behind as Malekith took the rest, unable to separate from your blood.” His eyes were hooded, and mouth parted into an infuriating smile. “You’re intoxicating.”

Jane’s own lips tightened in response, and her voice was a warning. “I think it’s time to go.”

Loki was outright smirking now, but regardless he heeded her words. Nodding back towards the grand hall, they began their trek. 

The silence was far from comfortable. “How do I destroy it?” Jane asked quietly. 

Loki’s voice was equally as low, almost casual. “Not even killing yourself would destroy the Aether. Luring it out, if possible, would only cause it to find a random host to inhabit.”

“So, I don’t destroy it? I wait for it to destroy me?” 

He nodded, and there was nothing somber in his tone. “Precisely.”

Teeth grinding, she took time to calm herself before they arrived. Loki knew ways to lure in a false sense of security, and then destroy it in choice words. His aim seemed precisely to infuriate her. His words from the first time they met in this form began to ring back unannounced, tormenting her thoughts. 

_ ‘Try to fall in love with me. If at all possible, look past what I am, what I’ve done, and fall in love with whatever is left.’  _ He must have been fucking with her. He had to have been. 

When they arrived to the dining hall, it was just barely before the guests did. 

“We greet you, Jarls of the Svell.” There were three men in total, each with a female consort. They were only just a bit taller than Loki himself, with lighter skin and hair. Their eyes were still that same crimson, characteristic of the race. “Welcome to Utgard, home to the Well of Mimir. I anticipate that we reach an agreement during your stay.”

The foremost one nodded, hair almost white in its intricate braid of silver and black jewels. His eyes fell to Jane, emotionless and still. “May I inquire the presence of a human in this world?”

Jane held herself equally as tall. Loki chuckled good-naturedly under his breath, practically oozing his familiar charisma. “You may. It seems as though I have a visitor. A gift, if you will.” Jane looked at him oddly at his choice of words, but his gaze was otherwise caught in the Jarls gaze. 

True names were not exchanged, though Jane doubted that she’d be able to properly announce them anyways. She found herself more unnerved by the scrutiny by the three consorts, rather than the cold gaze of the Jarls. When it was time to eat, Jane chose the lesser of two evils and seated next to Loki. If he was at all amused by her choice, he hid it poorly. 

While Asgardian and Midgardian cultures were remarkably similar, Jotunheim was a vast land of ever-changing custom. Every part of the realm was different than another, including the trivial aspects of the timbre of voice and patterns of lines on their skin. So, as such, the table they sat at wasn’t quite a table, as much as it was a tower of food stacked upon a turnable stand. The seats were cushions on the ground arranged around the food, and Jane added another pillow to her seat accordingly to greater her height to the giant’s level. 

Loki was not at an unease. While he was indubitably accustomed to the Asgardian method of eating, at a table setting with utensils, Jane often forgot that he was a prince before he was a banished king. Being as ‘charming’ (relative) as he was merited a level of experience and adaptability. 

The Jarls were impressed, speaking lightly amongst themselves in tangible pleasure as they began helping themselves without pleasantry. While the foods were unfamiliar, their vague appearances were not. Jane could find the substitution for a salad, or finger foods, or the main course. At the bottom sat a hot liquid, the cup carved from bone, so she decided on that to begin with. Loki nodded approvingly, spinning the tower to pick something for himself, and the conversation gradually melted into the Jotun tongue. Jane was far from caring. 

It was a sweet tea with a bitter tang at the back of the tongue, but overall subtle enough to be almost tasty. It was then that Jane realized how long it had been since she had a full meal, well over a few days. She was surprised that she hadn’t thought of eating in that time, blaming the regenerating abilities of Loki’s healing to mask the hunger. Grabbing from the table without preamble, she uncaringly began to feast as unhurried as she could manage. 

From the taste of salt and overall texture, the foods were obviously of the seafood grouping. Most likely from the northern glaciers the Jarls resided in, another homage on Loki’s part to the different culture. It was filling, though, fit for a giant, and she soon found herself full. While the dinner wasn’t at the top of her list of things she wanted to do, she could appreciate the food if nothing else. She finished far before the Jotuns, but when all were full, the table was cleared and the cushions stored. She found herself suddenly wishing to excuse herself now. 

“I prefer you to Laufey,” one of the Jarls stated, an odd plumpness to his cheek. “Would you like to begin the exchange?”

Loki nodded, eyes alight with a mirth only reigned by his professionalism. Grabbing Jane’s arm suddenly, he spun her in front of him with no hesitation in his strength. “Here is my side of the bargain. She is one of the brightest minds of Earth, capable of creating routes to any realm you chose with her earthly magic. I expect that it is a fair trade?”

Ice, unrelated to the frost of the palace, sent sharp thorns through Jane’s blood. “ _ Bastard!”  _ She wanted to yell, if her mouth were not muted by an invisible force.  _ Wordless sorcery _ . The consort of one of the Jarls caught her eye, a small smile gracing the flecks on her lips. If Loki was surprised by her seeming admission, he did not show it.

The head Jarl bowed his head, an agreement. The same consort stepped forward, silver locks swung down to her thighs. Her eyes were now trained on Loki himself, thick blonde lashes framing the red. “I am the priestess of Svell, keeper of the knowledge. I will give the gift you seek.”

Jane was released into the hands of the second consort, the giantess’s nails sharp as ice picks on her arms. With a fleeting fear in her heart, Jane was as helpless and vulnerable as her first night here, strapped on the back of the brutish giants. Only now, her only protector seemed to be the one she couldn’t trust the most.  _ But are you surprised?  _ She thought to herself, a mental cut to her idiocracy.  _ The god of lies and tricks only does things in his favor, and nothing more. _ She could only watch, mute and restrained, as the woman lifted her hands to Loki’s temple and breathed heavy sorcery into his parted mouth. 

Moments later, he emerged as if from underwater. “Fascinating,” he breathed, a newfound light in his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings in a rebirthed daze. His mouth, tilted into a blackened grin, was aimed towards Jane as she expelled every furious emotion she felt into her eyes, her face red with restraint. He had the audacity to wink. “Well worth the trade, my dear.”

“Now!” He continued, snapping for a servant. He held the priestess’s hand in his, mouth brushing against her fingers as she watched him with undisguised interest. He cleared his throat, eyes wide as if drugged, and held up his glass. “A wine from the depths of the underground, where the berries grow ripe beneath the unforgiving frost. I hope that we may strengthen ties further in the near future, yes?”

A glass was distributed to each Jarl and consort. Jane once again tried to wrestle free, but her wrists were easily restrained in the woman’s hand as the Jotun cradled the glass. Jane hissed in frustration. “The Festival of the Tveir runs near,” the consort that held her captive said conversationally. “Am I correct in assuming that you are planning in holding it here, to connect the people of Jotunheim that your father succeeded in tearing apart?” 

Even at the mention of his true father, Loki had the same charismatic charm on his face. Only Jane could notice the flex of his jaw. “You’ve discovered me. Jotunheim has been in the dark of hostility for much too long. We must unite as one to be the true realm of our forefathers.” He held up his glass, and the others followed suit. “The knowledge you have gifted me will show me the ways of each settlement scattered around this world, and how to earn each of their favor. For that, I am grateful. To Jotunheim!”

“Jotunheim!” They proclaimed cheerfully, downing the glasses in large gulps. It was not lost on Jane, her eyes trained to the king, that Loki did not even sip from his glass. Within moments, all six of the northern Jotuns collapsed. Jane found herself unsurprised, the anger of betrayal still fresh in her veins. 

“God of tricks,” she reminded herself, voice rough as the silencing magic slipped from her tongue. Loki, having set his untouched glass on the table, commanded the servants to begin loading his guests back onto their carriage. 

“They forget,” Loki mentioned conversationally, nudging the priestess with his toe, “That any fruit that grows in this unforgiving terrain is unfit for proper consumption. There is a reason that Jotun’s are wholly carnivorous. ” He then met Jane’s eyes, smiling apologetically for all the wrong reasons. “Usually my tricks have more flamboyance, but winning the Jarls over needed subtlety.”

“Subtlety being knocking them out, of course,” Jane growled, wringing at her wrists. They would definitely bruise from the vice they were compressed in. “I’m sure they’ll attend this festival of yours, no problem. I mean, if they can bypass what a pompous  _ jackass  _ you are.”

Loki sighed melodramatically and rolled his eyes, a feat that he somehow made possible even with his alien pupils. “Come now, Jane. I let you know my weakness, the fact that I will not kill you. Did you truly believe that I would readily gift you to these people?” 

“‘I’ll make your life miserable, blah blah blah’,” Jane mimed grumpily. Now that she learned that it was all just another one of Loki’s tricks, the heaviness in her heart had mostly dissipated. It wasn’t that she was  _ betrayed,  _ per say; she never thought of Loki as someone to trust. But he was the closest she had at this point in time, save for Rafir, and the injustice of the situation had nearly choked her. Shaking her head, she began to storm out of the room, but had to pause in the doorway. The servants passed by her with no mind. 

“What are you going to tell them? It won’t be hard for them to piece together that they were drugged by some bad wine.”

Loki hummed, skin bluer than usual in the light of the golden chandelier. “With this newfound sorcery, I’ll convince them that they all became inebriated off of your blood and fell into a drunken sleep. That was to be their plans for the evening, anyway.” 

Letting the words sink in, Jane could only manage a grimace. Wishing that she had never asked, she stomped unevenly from the dining room. 

**Author's Note:**

> please drop a comment of what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
